The Sacrifices of Love
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: Spoilers for 3.03. This story imagines what might happen if Gregson turns out to be the rotten little weasel we Anthony & Edith shippers all think he will. And how Sir Anthony, sweet, noble gentleman that he is, will sacrifice anything, even his own happiness, for the love of Edith. BUT - fear not: it has a very definite happy ending.
1. Chapter 1

The train from London to Yorkshire seemed to be taking so long, far too long. Edith stared out of the window of the carriage, trying to ignore the pitying stares of the other passengers, as well as the voices in her own head. She knew it was obvious she had been crying. When she had first wept, silently and unobtrusively she thought, a kindly older lady had enquired "Excuse me, are you alright, dear?" Edith had answered, as steadily as she could "Yes, quite alright, thank you. I'm suffering a little from hay fever, that's all." She didn't know whether the kind lady had believed her, because Edith wasn't strong enough to look at her again. She couldn't tell a stranger what was really wrong. She wasn't even sure how she was going to tell her family the horrid truth that kept echoing around her head, like all the terrible things _he_ had said to her.

_._

His endearments had begun kindly enough, quickly becoming ever more passionate:

"You were not wrong. I was flirting with you."

"You are the most gorgeous woman I've ever met."

"I love you, Edith. Even if I can't call you my wife, I want to have you beside me, always."

_._

Until she fell pregnant:

"I can't look after you, you know. You'll have to return to your family."

"You really aren't the person you led me to believe you were."

"Did you think that, by becoming pregnant you could trap me into some…some sort of permanent liaison?"

And then finally, wearily, dismissively "Edith, for God's sake, leave me alone."

_._

He had been right about one thing. She did have to return to Downton. She would have to confess to her family that going to London and having a career, for want of a better word, had been a very bad mistake. She would have to accept that her actions would make it impossible ever to be received into society again, but she felt so numb that that actually felt like a relief.

Arriving at Downton Station, she quickly alighted. The porter helped her with her luggage and asked if anyone would be meeting her. She hadn't really thought that far ahead. "No, no one's meeting me. Can I leave the luggage here and send a car for it tomorrow?"

"Of course, my Lady."

She heard herself gasp. She had hoped she wouldn't be recognised. She thanked the porter, passing him the last bank note she had, and walked away smartly. This was going to be so very difficult, when _everybody_ knew her. Feeling the tears rising once more, she cursed herself under her breath as she walked towards Downton. She was so bored with crying so much. She was sick and tired of being a failure, of having no luck, of everything she tried going so badly wrong…sick and tired of herself.

Standing in front of the great front door of Downton, she paused before ringing the bell. This was it; the last chance to make another choice. It was home or…or what? Without employment she had no money, nowhere to live, nothing. In her present state she had no prospects, not even of a husband. Home it had to be. Disgrace waited behind these doors. She pressed the bell, and Carson answered.

"Good evening, Lady Edith. I'm sorry, we weren't expecting you."

"No, it was a spur of the moment thing, Carson. Please don't worry. Is my mother at home?"

"I believe she is in the library with his Lordship, my lady. Do you have any luggage?"

"It's still at the station, Carson."

"I'll send Jackson to fetch it as soon as possible, my Lady."

"Thank you Carson."

"Welcome home, Lady Edith."

That sounded final enough, thought Edith. She went through to the library and shut the door.

Carson heard the sound of soft voices. He heard Edith begin to cry, quietly at first, becoming louder as more questions were asked. He heard the Countess's voice, broken with tears, and his lordship's anguished rebuke, and, even though he knew nothing of the cause, Carson sent up a little prayer for them all.

* * *

Dinner was quiet and tense. Cora had told Mary. Mary had told Matthew. Matthew had told Tom. No one dared tell Violet. At least not yet. Robert had promised to tell her later, away from everyone else.

"How long will you be staying, Edith, dear?" enquired Violet.

"My time at the newspaper came to an end, Granny. I expect to get on with life here as normal now." Edith was keeping up appearances remarkably well, she thought.

"Well, thank heavens for small mercies."

No one said anything.

"Might we even be permitted to find you a suitable husband?"

"That would be rather wonderful if you could, Granny" Edith answered, stone-faced.

"My goodness! Is it a blue moon tonight?!" Violet asked before Robert rescued Edith from further torment by steering his mother towards arrangements for the upcoming Season. But Violet's questions had planted the small seed of an idea in his mind.

* * *

The next day, he had Carson telephone Locksley, so that he should not turn up unexpected later that afternoon. Anthony felt apprehensive about the visit; what did Lord Grantham want with him after all these months? Perhaps he had news about Edith, and that made Anthony very nervous; what sort of news would require a personal call? Grantham wasn't the sort to spare anyone's feelings.

When Oakley, Strallan's butler, showed Robert into the library when he arrived, Anthony wasn't sure how to greet his guest. An extended hand seemed rather too familiar and presumptuous, but he still wanted to show welcome and respect to the father of the woman he almost married. He fell back on long-forgotten etiquette and bowed his head briefly while saying "Lord Grantham, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm not sure whether you will think that my visit is a pleasure when all's said, Sir Anthony, but I thank you for receiving me."

"Not at all. Will you sit down?"

"Thank you."

"I've asked for tea to be brought presently."

"How are you, Sir Anthony?"

"Oh, mustn't complain, you know."

"We didn't hear anything of you after that day at the church."

"Didn't think anyone would want to. And quite rightly so."

"Anthony, let me get to the point. I know this isn't easy for either of us. After that day, Edith moped for a bit. Then she distracted herself by getting herself a job writing articles for _The Sketch_ as a journalist."

"So I believe. I read them with…" he wanted to say _pride_ but that was not appropriate. "…great interest."

"Yes, everyone seems to think she was quite good at it. Unfortunately, while in London she got badly mixed up with the Editor of that newspaper. He took advantage of her, and, well…"

Anthony was struck dumb. _Oh, Edith_ he thought _that is not what I released you for, this isn't the future I wanted for you_.

"She has returned home to Downton for her confinement."

"Can't the basta…blackguard be made to marry her?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible; he is already married."

"Dear God!" He took a deep breath. "I am so sorry Lord Grantham."

"But I am still hoping that something can be salvaged from the situation."

"Good" Anthony murmured, still dazed "that's good."

"That…_we_ can rescue something of her reputation. Anthony, do I understand correctly that you would be willing to help Edith?"

Suddenly focussed again, Anthony looked Robert right in the eye and said "I would do anything for her. I owe her that."

"Let me tell you my idea, but I realise I am asking an awful lot."

As he was taking his leave, Robert thanked Anthony again, shaking his hand. "I hope this will work for everyone, Anthony."

"As long as Lady Edith's happiness and reputation are saved, Lord Grantham, I will be more than content."


	2. Chapter 2

Back in the library, Anthony Strallan stared into space. Grantham had only just left and he'd stayed for less than half an hour. In those thirty minutes, Anthony's life had changed beyond recognition. After his not-wedding day, he had hid himself away from all the world. For the first month, he didn't even see his tenants. He became uncharacteristically morose, and, he knew, he had wilfully ignored what the rest of his life might be like, fearing the emptiness it held. Gradually he had faced the upcoming years of loneliness, and began to put strategies in place to cope with it. He became more involved with the tenants, who cared only about where the money and food was going to come from, not whether he once jilted the most beautiful woman in the world. He read more voraciously than ever. He bought himself a gramophone so that he could indulge his love of music, now that attending concerts was out of the question.

Suddenly, following Robert's visit, he was expected to go to Downton tomorrow afternoon and ask Edith to marry him. Again. _Third time lucky_, he couldn't stop himself thinking, bitterly. He had agreed to the plan because without it, Edith was doomed to a half life, either hidden away as an embarrassment to her family or a permanent source of scandal to the county, and he couldn't bear that. At least this way, with the protection of his name, she might find a way back into society again, and society could believe that the child was his, if society wanted to. She could face her friends, and, if all went well, might even find love. That had not been part of the bargain that Robert had suggested. But Anthony knew that if he was going to do this properly, if he was to give Edith her life back, she should have _all_ of her life. He _wanted_ her to have all of her life again. He would face her taking lovers if that was what she wanted, possibly being confined back at Locksley again with other men's children, and all the while she would quite probably not want to have anything to do with him. Knowing this, he still agreed.

Because he loved her.

He'd treated her abominably, leaving her at the altar that day. That was partly the reason she had fled to London in the first place. He felt responsible. So Grantham's plan gave him a chance to atone, at least a little, for what he had done. His mind stretched back to an evening not so long ago, when he had stood in Downton's library with Robert and promised to stay away from Edith. Now Robert had been to Locksley's library to ask that Anthony pursue Edith. He was well aware that neither interview was particularly inclusive of Edith's own wishes. Tomorrow, Anthony determined, he would make his offer, but he would accept Edith's reply without murmur, whatever she answered.

* * *

When Anthony first saw Edith the next afternoon, he was shocked. Only a matter of months had passed since he had last seen her, looking so ravishingly beautiful in her wedding gown. So ravishing, in fact, that he had been extremely close to giving in to the temptation and not doing the right thing. He had so wanted just to go ahead and marry her, because she had made him weak from pure love and desire. But now she seemed to have lived through years of anguish. She stooped slightly, and it was obvious that she was habitually tense. Yet, to Anthony, she was still the loveliest woman to walk the earth. His heart ached. She had seemed surprised by his visit. Had he misunderstood Robert's intention to forewarn her? He spent a few minutes in small talk about what had been happening locally to allow her time to compose herself.

Edith _was_ surprised. Anthony was the last person she thought would be interested in making a social call. Hurt flooded back; it surprised her as it was a keener and deeper hurt than that dealt to her by Michael. But Anthony looked well enough. He was still taller than all other men she knew, with a nobility settled quietly on his lean frame, and a kind, melancholy look in his cornflower blue eyes. She still felt that he could see right through her to her soul with those piercingly sapphire eyes… Tearing her gaze from his she thought bitterly, and mistakenly,_ Leaving me at the altar seems to have done him no harm_.

After one of the many short, awkward silences that afternoon, Anthony said "Did your father not mention to you that I might be calling round?"

"Papa was called away to one of the hill farms very early this morning; something to do with sheep rustling. I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Ah" was all Anthony could say. _Well, I'll just have to go it alone_, he thought.

"Lady Edith. Your father called on me yesterday. He is very concerned about you, about your happiness."

Suddenly, Edith understood what this was all about.

"He told you I'd gone and got myself…ruined, didn't he?"

"Not in as many words, but yes."

More in sadness than blame, she said "You must be feeling very relieved, and justified in abandoning me. I cannot blame you. Who would want a wife capable of being so wanton? I congratulate you on knowing my sordid character so much better than I did myself, and saving yourself from the scandal."

"No! No, that's not why I'm here, not at all." He moved to sit opposite to her and leaned towards her earnestly. "I flatter myself that I do understand you, Edith, and much better than your father. I do not believe you did what you did because you are wanton. On the contrary, I think you were trying to convince yourself, with the first man who took any interest in you, that you were lovable and desirable. You did that because you felt unloved. And you felt that way solely because of my cruelty. You don't deserve to feel like that, Edith. You didn't deserve what I did to you, and I've hated myself every hour since because of it."

He paused, trying to gauge her reaction but she gave none, looking at him sadly.

"If I can do anything, however small, to make amends for what I have done to you, I will gladly do it."

Still no response. Summoning all his nerve, he ploughed on, regardless.

"Edith, I want to make you an offer. Please do me the courtesy of considering it before you make me an answer. If it would help in any way, to assist you to live your life from here on the way you would like to live it, to have the protection of my name and position, I would be honoured if you would let me give those to you."

Anthony let that sink in for a bit before continuing. Edith opened her mouth, but said nothing.

"Let me be totally clear. I would not expect you even to pretend to be my wife in any way. We might have to play the part a bit to convince people, but the point of the exercise would simply be to give you the freedom to have a place in society again."

Before she could speak, he went on, more quietly "If you would like to continue to see Mr. Gregson, or any other man, I would not stand in your way. You would be free to live anywhere you desired: Locksley, at the house in London, here at Downton, or somewhere else entirely. You will have an income of your own, to spend as you wish without my interference. If you wanted to continue writing, or any other occupation, I would support it."

Finally, Edith replied. "And my child?"

"I would acknowledge him or her as mine, of course."

"Even if it's a boy?"

"Edith" he said reassuringly, "at present my title dies with me, and I can't see my sister having any children now. It won't hurt anyone if your son inherits it."

Edith was flooded with relief and gratitude to this dear, noble, sweet man. She began to weep, despite all her promises to herself that morning that she would not. Anthony leant towards her, almost imperceptibly, not wanting to give her any reason to disbelieve what he had just assured her, but so wanting to comfort her. Edith saw his tiny movement and took the encouragement eagerly hugging him as Anthony put his arm around her, pulling her close to him for consolation. She began to whisper her thanks but Anthony softly shushed her. Edith felt the security and warmth of it, and wondered how she had ever gained any pleasure from being in another man's arms.

* * *

The wedding was a very small event. It had been organised as quickly as possible, so there were no celebrations at Downton, and no honeymoon. The marriage was announced in _The Times_ and a number of other papers, including _The Sketch_ Anthony noticed with cold satisfaction. Anthony took Edith back to Locksley after the ceremony and they had a quiet dinner together. Anthony had given Edith a suite of rooms, including a nursery, on the first floor at the opposite end of the house to his own bedchamber and dressing room. Now that they had the time, Anthony suggested, they could decorate the rooms as Edith would like them. So the rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough discussing colours and furnishings.

At bed time, he made a point of taking Edith to her own room, kissing her hand, and wishing her a pleasant night, before leaving her to return to his own end of the corridor. He wanted her to feel cared for, tonight of all nights. It was all done with such tenderness, grace, and decorum that she felt a moment of panic and abandonment at his parting almost as bad as that when he had left her at the altar.

_Don't be silly, girl_ she told herself. _He's still going to be here in the morning._

Controlling herself she readied herself for bed, alone, on her wedding night, not allowing herself to consider why she minded her husband's absence so very much.

Anthony sat on the side of his bed and dismissed his valet. He had known (of course he had!) that this would be miserable for him. She, Edith, the woman he adored, was now his wife, this was their wedding night, the wedding night he had waited the best part of a decade for. Yet he was alone. Allowing himself to long for her was far too painful he'd decided. Nothing could be done about it; there was an end of it. He was keeping his feelings on a very short leash, controlling them mercilessly before they controlled him. He took another slug of brandy and hoped, without optimism, that it would help him slip into sleepy oblivion as soon as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

Their days settled into an easy companionship, not unlike that they shared before the war. They had agreed that it would be good to spend only about one or two days in every week attending social functions, to ensure that their married status was known, yet at the same time not allowing any one person enough contact with her to be able to judge how long she had been pregnant. Even in the unlikely event that they did, Anthony reflected sadly, they would have no reason to believe anything except that Sir Anthony Strallan is a dark horse. He leaves his bride on their wedding day, only to get her with child and then marry her in secret. _Oh, if only that were the truth_, he thought. Nevertheless, Anthony insisted that Edith chose what they attended, if anything, and whether she wished to go by herself or with him. But Edith wanted to attend parties with him, giving him her arm as his wife. Anthony quickly crushed the pride and pleasure this gave him. She wanted his company and support, and he was only too pleased to provide it for her, refusing to conjecture further.

To their surprise, parties turned out to be quite easy to attend. They found that neither of them enjoyed talking to lots of people in an evening, preferring a few well chosen companions, and a chance to make proper friendships or renew close acquaintances. If there was no one present to whom they wanted to talk, they talked happily to each other. Anthony was content to stay at functions for as long or as short a period as Edith wanted. They were soon known as a charming couple, and were popular guests.

In return, she realised she was becoming much more in tune with her husband's moods and needs. Once they bumped into Larry Grey at the Davenport-Hines's. Larry had forgotten all about spiking Tom's drink at Downton, but Anthony had not. His reaction had been extreme – for him – although no one apart from his wife would have observed it: he stood straighter and taller than usual, looking at the young man with contempt, and saying practically nothing. But Edith noticed and rescued him with a polite but insistent "Do come and meet Percy Godolphin, dear. Excuse us Larry." She took Anthony's arm and led him to the other side of the room before saying "I think you can relax now, dearest." To his confused expression, she merely replied "No such person as Godolphin. You needed a bit of a lifeline, I thought." He looked at her with such gratitude then (and did she see, fleetingly, something more? No, she was imagining it). She felt delight at being able to repay his thoughtfulness in kind. Michael and the pain of being used by him was fading from her memory. Older, deeper feelings were gradually taking their place, delighting and confusing her in equal measure.

* * *

There was one evening after dinner when Edith wanted to ask Anthony something about decorating the nursery. She went down to the library and quietly opened the door. Anthony was sitting with his back to her in the dim light of one lamp, holding a glass of brandy but ignoring it, listening to the gramophone: listening, she realised, to Schubert's _Winterreise_, described even by their composer as the most terrifying cycle of songs about love and death. Softly, she stepped beside him. He had his eyes closed, was unaware of her. Occasionally a single tear would slip down his face. Unwilling to disturb him, she knelt on the floor beside his chair, listening to the music with him. She gazed at his face, taking this opportunity to study his features without his knowledge. She had always considered him handsome, but only now did she see that there was such pain etched there, such sensitivity. With an absolute certainty that comes only a few times in a lifetime, she knew that he loved her. And, that as long as she lived, there would be only one man for her, and it was he who sat weeping softly in front of her, not entirely for Franz Schubert's grief, but also for his own.

The music finished, he gave a long sigh, sipped his brandy, and was getting up to turn the gramophone off, when he saw her, sitting on the floor next to his chair, her legs curled beneath her.

"Sorry, dear. Have you been there long?"

"Long enough."

* * *

Christmas that year was very cold with plenty of snow. The Strallans had been invited to Downton to spend the holidays with the Crawleys. Edith was not sure about the wisdom of accepting, but could not for the life of her think of an adequate excuse not to go.

"My dear" said Anthony "you can always claim you are feeling tired and retire. And I will be with you to fight your corner if necessary."

"Believe me, Anthony, that is the only reason I am prepared to do this at all."

_Does she really mean that?_ he thought, immediately stamping on the speculation.

Christmas Eve saw them motor over to Downton with a boot full of thoughtful presents chosen and bought by Anthony. Robert took pains to make sure Anthony was welcome. He had admired the man for taking Edith under his wing and rescuing her reputation, but there was more there, Robert was certain. The more he watched Anthony around Edith…how protective he was of her, yet at the same time making sure that she didn't realise its extent…how he would somehow contrive to be the perfect guest talking to all those around him, yet only really having eyes for his wife…Robert felt sure that Anthony was in love with Edith. It was only with that realisation that Robert understood what a huge sacrifice Anthony had made for her.

So when Violet, who knew what Anthony had done for Edith and appreciated it but still couldn't resist irking him, began to ask about how Anthony was keeping up with his younger wife, it was Robert who reminded her that Anthony was younger than he was. And if Anthony was an old man, then he, Robert, was positively decrepit. Violet was further silenced when Robert asked Anthony if he would join him for a ride on one of the hunters the next morning.

"I know you've given up your horses, but if you miss it, and would like to, we could go, say, round the woods and back. What do you say?"

"I would like that very much, thank you Lord Grantham."

* * *

Going up to bed, Edith said "That seemed to go alright. Are you sure you want to go out riding? You're not just doing it to please Papa?"

"As long as he doesn't give me his prize jumper, I should be fine. Actually, I have missed riding, and it's perfectly possible with one hand provided you're careful. Don't think for a minute that I will allow myself to go and break my neck, because I wouldn't let your grandmother have the satisfaction of telling you she told you so!"

To Anthony's horror, he and Edith had been given one room between them, but it was too late to bring it up with Cora at this hour. There was nothing for it, except to sleep on the sofa at the foot of the bed, which would be uncomfortable since it was about five feet long and he was six foot four inches tall. But Edith wasn't having it.

"Anthony, what are you doing?"

"Getting ready for bed, dear."

"We've been given one bed, and we are both going to sleep in it."

"You don't have to…"

"Anthony, I am not going to make you sleep on the couch. That would be heartless and ungrateful of me. And it's too small for you. If anyone should sleep on it, it should be me."

"And that _I_ would not allow, not in your condition."

"I'm only about four months gone."

"Still I forbid you to sleep on the couch."

"So that's settled then. We'll sleep in the same bed for the first time ever and enjoy the novelty. Just don't tickle me."

He laughed at her joke, but it didn't quite break the tension he felt. This was not going to be easy. He joined her awkwardly, before getting straight back out of bed again to ask her which side of the bed she would prefer to sleep.

"My dear" she said "I really don't mind. Which would you prefer, for your arm?"

"It doesn't matter, but if you are at all uncomfortable during the night, physically or otherwise, you must tell me."

"I promise…_husband_" she said more seriously.

She had never used the term before. It shocked him motionless. For the first time she'd called _him her husband_.

"Please, Anthony, come to bed."

Not trusting his voice, he answered by returning to where he had been. He settled down, but kept looking at her. Her words, and being here with her, were suffocating him.

She watched him for a few moments before snuggling down the bed and returning his gaze.

"Comfortable?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you."

"This was my childhood bedroom."

"I'm privileged to be admitted."

"It was here in this bed that I dreamed of knights in shining armour on white chargers rescuing me from Carson."

Anthony genuinely chuckled at that.

"Now I have my own knight, or rather baronet, in shining armour, who rescued me from disgrace."

Anthony didn't reply. He didn't have the words. All he could think of was that he was in bed with Edith, who was trying to flirt with him, he realised abruptly. He gazed at her lips, aching for a kiss, all his repressed feelings for her flooding back now the dam had broken, threatening to drown him. His hand yearned to reach out and hold her, pull her to him, and never, ever let her go again. _Oh God, how I love you!_

_I'm looking directly into his eyes, his lovely blue eyes_ she thought. _Usually I don't get to face him at eye level. Why do I so want him near tonight? It isn't just the mix up about the bed, although that has brought certain facts concerning how I feel about him into stark relief. It's being here at home…I mean, at Downton. Locksley is home. He has been protecting me from the Crawleys, just by being himself and being here. I am more comfortable with him than I am with my own family. Oh Anthony, I've fallen in love with you, all over again. Dare I hope that you might ever have feelings for me? Or have I ruined it all?_

Edith was just reaching out a hand to Anthony's face when she felt a nasty pang in her stomach. She doubled up with the pain.

"Edith? What is it?"

"I don't know. It…oh."

Anthony pulled back the bedclothes to find a small trickle of blood. His worried expression belied the reassuring noises he tried to make to Edith. "I'm sure it'll be nothing, dearest. But I think we should get Clarkson over just in case. I'll be back immediately." He quickly kissed her forehead and ran out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all so much for all the reviews, favourites, and follows. I'm glad I could make amends after the deep gloom of my last story. Writing is so much more fun with you lot around. Baron *bows deeply*

* * *

Clarkson was not best pleased to be called out in the small hours of Christmas Day. He had already had to attend to a birth in one of the outlying villages, and had been hoping to get some sleep. Still, he was professionally thorough in his examination of Lady Edith.

Anthony paced the library with Robert in attendance, looking at his daughter's husband with concern.

"Anthony, I'm sure she'll be alright. It's far too early in her term to be dangerous to her."

"Yes…I know that" he answered uncertainly, trying and failing to convince himself.

"If she loses the child, it might be easier on everyone."

"How can you be so callous, Robert?"

"I didn't say I wanted the child to miscarry, Anthony, just that there might be a silver lining to be had if that is what's meant to be."

"You're right, of course, but…"

"You love her still, don't you, Anthony?"

Anthony paused in his pacing. Then he owned up, as if confessing to murder:

"Yes, with all my heart."

"Please believe that I wouldn't have asked you to do this if I had known. It must be terribly painful for you."

Anthony made no reply. How could he tell Robert that up until that night, yes, it had been cruelly painful to live with Edith as his wife, watching her suffer over Gregson, and his child? She was his wife, but he knew she longed for another man, all the time longing for her himself. But then, tonight…tonight, he suddenly had reason to hope again. And then this happens.

* * *

Clarkson was sure that the episode had been a scare, nothing more, but he couldn't be absolutely certain. Edith needed lots of rest and they would have to hope; that was the best he could do. As Anthony entered their bedroom again, his heart fluttered. Edith was sitting on the bed, in new nightwear, with clean sheets. She was being brave, but he could see she'd been crying, and she was very worried and confused. He went directly to her and took her hand, trusting the little intimacy they'd shared just before the emergency.

"How now, sweet one?"

"Oh Anthony!" Despite her bravado the tears would not be held back. He put his good arm around her shoulders, making soothing noises. Once she'd calmed again, she said "It's so confusing; my emotions are all over the place."

"Of course, dearest, you're pregnant. But ours is hardly a common situation. You must be feeling quite torn between not being sure you want this baby, and still caring for it."

Edith looked at him gratefully; he understood her so well. But there was more.

"You are so right, but…but…"

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Anthony, I'm so afraid. You only married me because I was pregnant. If I miscarried there would be no reason for this…façade anymore. I fear you'd want to divorce me." She burst into tears having confessed her deepest terror.

"Oh my darling! Of course I wouldn't! Not if you didn't want to. Anyway, divorce would be just as much a scandal than motherhood out of wedlock. We get on well, don't we, you and I? I'd want that to continue as long as you did."

He let her spend her tears then, all the while cuddling her for comfort; ostensibly for her comfort, but also for his. After that, he settled them both back into bed, Edith tucked under his bad arm, resting on his shoulder, and eventually she succumbed to physical and emotional exhaustion and fell asleep. For a long while Anthony just held her, indulging his desire to feel that he really could, really was protecting her from everything that threatened her. Tomorrow the spell might be broken; tonight he would hold her and believe he really was her husband.

* * *

The rest of the Christmas holidays went by quietly. Edith rested until she felt more like herself, then Anthony immediately declared his intention to take her home to Locksley, ever so politely not brooking any objection from anyone. Once there, he insisted that Edith spend a few days in bed to recuperate. Edith agreed demurely enough, but with one condition:

"You will join me this evening, won't you? Like we were at Downton? I don't think I could relax or sleep properly without you, not now."

The request melted Anthony's heart, and he found he wanted to join her even if it made it more difficult to control his emotions.

Clarkson's next visit brought better news. He was more confident than ever that Edith had not lost the baby. Anthony's reaction was to embrace Edith joyfully, smiling from ear to ear, just as she did. It was only afterwards that they both came to the same conclusion, independently. This must mean that Anthony was feeling as paternal as Edith was feeling maternal. Where that left them, neither of them were sure.

* * *

Elspeth and Gordon Kelvindale were having a Burns Night Supper at the end of January, and although Edith's condition was beginning to show properly now, they decided to attend. The Kelvindales's parties were legendary; they invited most of the county, and entertained with lavishness and generosity. Anthony and Edith had been there about an hour, talking to Ripon neighbours when Edith heard a familiar voice, turned, and saw Michael Gregson. She turned extremely pale and almost fainted. Anthony was immediately by her side, whispering "What is it, my love?" Before she could answer, Gregson was there, in front of them, smiling his charmingly open and yet duplicitous smile. Edith found herself powerless to confront him openly, feeling utterly hollow inside. His appearance had provoked all sorts of conflicted emotions in her, mostly to do with Michael's skill at controlling her, using her self-doubt against her. In a broken voice, she introduced them.

"Anthony, this is Michael Gregson, editor of _The_ _Sketch_. Michael, this is Sir Anthony Strallan, my husband."

Anthony drew himself up to his full height and looked down on the man, as though he were a lower life form, possibly infectious, and definitely stinking. He was about to take Edith's arm and lead her away when Michael said "We were hoping to catch up on old times, weren't we Edith?"

Without knowing why she said it (perhaps because of Michael's careful training of her not to cross him in anything), Edith replied "Yes".

"Don't let us bore you, Sir Anthony." With that Michael grasped her arm and took her away from her husband.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank you all again for all the wonderful support. You are all marvellous. I'm so glad you've liked this story. There's a poll on my profile page if anyone wants to influence a future story.**_

* * *

She had _wanted_ to talk to him. She'd walked off with_ him_. Anthony's mouth went dry. He watched the two of them move to sit on a nearby sofa _together_. They made a great couple, well suited in age and ability, both accomplished journalists. As he stood looking at them, all that he had carefully built up in the last few weeks came crashing down around his ears. The hold Michael had over Edith was obvious. It was so strong that he could turn up unexpected months after she'd last seen him, and she would follow him as though spellbound. Anthony thought, in that moment, that he heard his heart break.

* * *

"I saw that you had married, Edith. I assume you terminated the baby?"

"Terminated? That's a very clinical word, Michael. As a matter of fact, no I didn't. What exactly are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you again."

"Really? Why? You made it so plain that you didn't want to see me in London."

"I made a mistake. I need you. I want you. I love you."

Edith couldn't believe her ears, but made no response.

"Come back with me, Edith. We'll raise the baby and be a family."

"You've just coldly enquired whether I had had the baby killed, and now you want to raise it?"

"You don't understand…I…"

"Oh, but I do understand, Michael. I think I understand only too well."

She got up and left him. In London, Gregson had twisted her feelings and thoughts and made her doubt herself more than ever. He had used her, manipulated her, and then tossed her aside like a broken toy once her condition threatened to upset his life with an illegitimate child. She didn't really know what he was planning this time, but he was such a master-manipulator and it was so second nature to him that he didn't even realise he was doing it most of the time. But now, after hearing Michael be so coldly calculating, and with Anthony by her side, she finally knew she didn't have to fight these battles alone any longer. Even if she didn't quite know what Anthony's feelings were, she trusted him implicitly to _want_ to protect her, and to be _able_ to protect her. That felt so magnificent, it gave her the confidence and freedom to cast off the spell Michael had woven over her out of her own insecurities. She walked back to where she had left Anthony, only to find he had gone. It took her a bit of searching to find him outside in the garden, sitting alone, staring into the fishpond. When he saw her he immediately stood up and almost ran over to her.

"Edith! What's the matter? Has he gone?"

"No. He's still here. I wanted to find you. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Thank you" he whispered. That was thoughtful of her. Nevertheless, Gregson… "What did he want?"

"He wanted me to go back to London with him."

Anthony looked as though someone had just thumped him hard in the stomach. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

"When will you leave?" he asked in a broken voice, staring at his feet.

"Leave? I'm not going. I want to stay here with you...if you'll have me."

Anthony's eyes shone with hope and love. Totally involuntarily, he reached forward and hugged her tight to him, lifting her off the ground.

"Oh, Edith!"

"Take me home, Anthony, please?"

"With the greatest pleasure, my lady."

* * *

Evening and breakfast passed in a haze of dazzling, unbelieving smiles for them both. Anthony had been tidying up estate business when he heard a visitor arrive. As he wasn't distrubed he assumed the visitor wanted Edith and thought little of it. Ten minutes later he heard the commotion outside of his library. Before he got to the door, Oakley almost ran in, panic etched on his face.

"Sir…"

Imagining horrible things, Anthony ran out into the hall to see Edith struggling against Gregson's hands holding her wrists.

"Unhand her, Sir, or, by God, I will not be responsible for my actions!"

Anthony's voice was so loud and authoritative that Gregson instantly released Edith. She ran to Anthony and almost hid behind him, holding his arm.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"A misunderstanding, Sir Anthony, nothing more" whined Gregson.

"He was trying to blackmail us, blackmail you" Edith choked.

"Really? Is that so, Mr. Gregson?"

"I am sure we can come to an amicable agreement, Sir Anthony."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I should think about £1000 should cover it."

"And your part of the bargain?"

"I don't tell anyone the true paternity of your heir, including printing it in my own newspaper."

Anthony considered this, then putting his hand in his pocket he brought out a single guinea, which he tossed over to Gregson.

"That, Sir, is to pay for the cab you will need to get yourself to the station to leave Yorkshire forever, because I'll be damned if I'll let my driver take you, and making you walk won't be fast enough. I hope, for your sake, we never see you again Mr. Gregson."

Gregson caught the guinea, looked at it, and cracked. As Anthony turned to put his good arm around Edith to lead her away, Gregson delivered a vicious punch to Anthony's jaw. The impact spun his head, but otherwise Anthony didn't flinch and didn't fall.

"Mr. Gregson, I do not wish to fight you."

"Coward."

"No, I am not a coward Mr. Gregson. There are three reasons I do not wish to engage with you in something as crass as a fistfight. Firstly, you are at least ten years younger than I am. Secondly, you have two healthy, strong arms. And thirdly, I don't particularly want to hurt you."

This coolly confident assessment of Anthony's chances maddened Gregson so much he aimed another punch, but Anthony caught his hand and expertly twisted his arm into a half nelson, pushing Gregson to the floor face down, while gracefully dropping to one knee himself, so that he could talk quietly into Gregson's ear. When Anthony released him, he scampered out of the front door terrified.

Edith put her arms around Anthony.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course, my love. He couldn't swat flies with his punches."

She laid her head affectionately on his shoulder.

"Whatever did you say to him?"

"I told him that if he came within fifty miles of you or our child ever again or even attempted to declare his paternity, I would make sure that his wife's family and the owner of his newspaper were all told of his behaviour, and then, and only then, I would kill him."

"Thank you, Anthony. Oh, my love, my darling, thank you."

Anthony saw something in her eyes then, something he had thought he'd seen for several weeks now, but couldn't quite believe. _This is as good a time as any_ he thought, and leaned down to kiss her, gently in case he'd been mistaken. But she responded instantly and with a passion. He held her close and pressed his lips to hers closer still, taking her breath away. When the kiss broke, he saw the tears of joy in her eyes.

"Oh, my hero."

"My dearest darling."

* * *

Dinner that evening was certainly a lot noisier than Oakley was used to. Not that he minded. It had been rather wonderful to see the master come alive like that and send that nasty little weasel away with his tail between his legs. It had been even more wonderful to see him put his arm around the mistress and finally declare that he loved her more than life itself after all those weeks of them moping around the house mooning about each other.

He'd certainly had a few tears himself when Sir Anthony asked Lady Edith if they could possibly start again from scratch. When the mistress had burst into happy tears, Sir Anthony had dropped to one knee to ask his wife to marry him. That had been a turn up for the books and no mistake: a husband proposing to his own wife! But it brought out Oakley's romantic side, as he had wiped away a tear. She had only just managed to whisper a heartfelt "Of course, my dearest darling" before the master had swept her off her feet and kissed her properly.

They'd been in the library all afternoon, mostly discussing where they would go for their honeymoon, but Oakley had been very, _very_ careful to make sure he knocked loudly and left them lots of time before opening the door to announce dinner. And now, they were in there making a helluva din, laughing and joking and kissing. Oh, it did an old butler's heart good.

* * *

"Are you sure you want Italy again?"

"Why not, Anthony?"

"It was where I planned to take you originally. Don't you think it might overshadow the happiness?"

"I think we've got beyond letting the past influence our future, don't you?"

"More seriously, my love, do you want to go before or after our little one arrives?"

"I do so love it when you call them _our_ little one."

"He, or she, is definitely my responsibility now."

"After I think; perhaps a month or two after. And we will take her, or him, with us." Anthony's smile broadened.

"Oh, I'm so glad you said that! Then it shall be so." He rubbed his jaw. "Do you know, I think that wretch loosened a tooth!"

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

"Let me have a look."

Edith put her hand to his face and closely examined his beautiful jawline. There was a small bruise there, but the teeth looked fine. She kissed his bruise with exquisite care, whispering "I am going to have to be careful with you tonight; I mustn't make it any worse."

Catching her meaning, Anthony's eyes widened with anticipation and desire. "Shouldn't we wait…"

"For what, my love? We are already married."

"Yes, but…"

"I can't wait until we renew our vows, Anthony. You've run out of excuses, and it's your own fault. Your wife wants you to bed her tonight, and there's nothing you can do to get out of it."

Finding breathing rather difficult, he caught her around the waist and ardently devoured her neck. "I can take it like a man."

* * *

Later, they lay deep in each other's arms in the master bedroom. The urgency of Anthony's lovemaking had taken Edith's breath away, but even so _his_ need was not the focus of his exertions. Despite his overwhelming passion, all his delight lay in giving her pleasure.

Gingerly, lazily, she was tracing her fingers over his face, the smooth skin above, the slight bristliness below.

"A bit like a hedgehog I'm afraid. If I had known this might happen I would have shaved again before supper."

"Don't worry. I like it."

"Here I am, trying to be a smooth gentleman for my lady, and all she wants is a bit of rough!"

"You know that isn't true." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "But I do like it when you pretend to be rough."

His breathing grew laboured and halting at her words.

"I always knew you'd be a wonderful lover, Anthony."

"You flatter me, for I know that isn't so."

"Oh Anthony! It is. I only have one other experience to which I can compare you, but believe me, you are infinitely more magnificent than him!"

"Only infinitely better?"

He leaned over to her, his voice full of unbelieving happiness.

"My lady, I will endeavour to improve with practice."

* * *

Edith's daughter was born five months later. Little Maud Josephine Strallan's Christening was preceded by a short service when Sir Anthony and Lady Strallan renewed their wedding vows to one another. As they left the church, Anthony leaned over to his wife and said "Now, I feel properly married to you, my dearest darling."

"I should jolly well hope so, my sweet one; I look forward to the next Christening." she replied.


End file.
